


Ascension

by OMGitsgreen



Series: Los Muertos [3]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Don't you wish your fanfic was hot like mine?, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Forced Prostitution, Gen, Headcanon, Lemon, M/M, Odesta, Pre-Canon, Romance, request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2018-02-28 16:31:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2739260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OMGitsgreen/pseuds/OMGitsgreen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Finnick had once thought that it was his freedom that he desired, but no, he only wanted freedom to love Annie Cresta as completely as he possibly could." Finnick comes home from an exhausting session in the Capitol, and reflects on what he must do to keep those he loves safe. hpdude-4life's 500th Reaching You Reviewer Request, LosMuertos series Odesta</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ascension

**Author's Note:**

> So this happened in a burst of creativity that took me by surprise.
> 
> Congratulations to hpdude-4life for being the 500th reviewer of Reaching You! The request was for a further look into Finnick's life dealing with the Capitol, as well as a greater look into Annie's Games, and the sweet angsty fluff that you know and love. Hopefully I did that request a bit of justice.
> 
> So yes, there are many look backs at Reaching You during this little one-shot, as well as being another addition to the Los Muertos series (LMverse). The most important of those being Finnick's fluid sexuality. I wanted to include this because I feel like a lot of fics that delve into the prostitution aspect of the Capitol make use of this heteronormative structure in view gay sex=bad sex. I obviously do not think that, and didn't want Finnick to think that. Also, a lot of people write as though a Capitol client took Finnick's virginity, even though Katniss in books states that they had to wait a couple of years before he could be used. Obviously this means in Panem there is at least some age of consent, and since Finnick was a popular and attractive boy, he had sexual experiences when he was younger than that. Finnick recognizes that he isn't so much attracted to gender as he is to people, and it's the people in the Capitol that he hates.
> 
> The subtitle of this fic is a line from the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice. Also I took a lot of inspiration for this fic from the myth of Orpheus, but I suppose in the relationship of Annie and Finnick, Annie would be the Orpheus character and Finnick would be Eurydice. I would like to imagine that one day I'll build another fic and retell that story using Odesta, hopefully I'll get around to it!
> 
> In any case, I hope you enjoy~OMGitsgreen

_Love was too strong a god, O King_

* * *

Finnick was utterly exhausted.

Not the usual kind of tired people feel, like when they end up staying up past two on a night out and have to drag their feet to work the next day. It was the sort of exhaustion that completely overwhelmed Finnick's senses until his thoughts and feelings simply fizzled across the surface of his consciousness and he could barely comprehend what was happening, even though it was what he got himself into night after night. Finnick was nearly asleep, but not. Barely skimming the edge of consciousness due to the fact he was being rutted against the bed, but how the sheets were scraping against his back in a steady and tedious rhythm that made his bones ache and his heavy eyes feel like lead. Completely void of any and all resentment or hatred or an emotion whatsoever, he was just done.

He hoped that this would be over soon so he could leave on the train. He just had one more appointment after this and he was so ready for it to be done.

Out of habit he ran his hand down the length of his nude body, and trailed his fingers up his customer's chest before smiling and making sure to spread his legs wider as if he was attempting to open himself further. That always did the trick he thought, as the customer above him began to grunt desperately and Finnick tried to bite back his utter disgust as the customer began to twitch inside of him, like a skittish animal. He hated when the guys were so big that he could feel it, Finnick thought biting back his revulsion as he tightened like a good whore and threw back his head.

Finally the guy thrusted inside of him hard and came, spilling within him. After that without any warning he yanked himself out of Finnick quickly forcing Finnick to bit the inside of his cheek as he smiled seductively and spread his legs further because all of his guests wanted a show. To see the evidence that he had been dominated, beaten down into submission and was simply a toy, living for the pleasure of having been visited by them.

"You were wonderful." Finnick purred, and the young man went red as he stood there awkwardly.

"You…you won't tell anyone right?" The young man asked and Finnick blinked. Normally he wasn't asked that. Confidentiality was a big policy. But this young man seemed frazzled enough that he had probably forgot. After all, he was just a simple middle man who had been paid off by having his wildest dream come true and with Finnick's tender probing of his mind he had spilled guts about his boss's elicit cover up of an underground business without a second thought. Most Capitolites assumed Finnick was just a pretty face and little in the way of intelligence so this man had probably assumed the words he had whispered between kisses would never leave the room. But unfortunately for them Finnick was very good at working the ditzy angle, and even better at getting what he wanted. He knew that one day such knowledge might aid him.

"Of course not." Finnick said before running his tongue over his teeth.

"Yeah." The young man said, before rushing out of the room after belting his pants.

Finnick collapsed back on the bed for a few moments, trying to forget the terrible ache in his back before forcing himself up and into the shower. The water was almost soothing, but despite the scrubbing his sickness remained under his skin. He needed to get clean and dry before the final visitor came, because no one liked sloppy seconds and making sure to pop another pill to up his libido.

His days in the Capitol normally went something like this:

He woke up and showered, trying desperately to get the smell of sex off of his skin. He was given extravagant meals served by Avoxes and ate them, sometimes alone, sometimes with Gloss and Cashmere who always looked equally as drained as Finnick felt. Gloss and Cashmere were popular, maybe not by themselves as popular as he was, but together probably more, not only because they were attractive but because they were brother and sister. Under Snow's regime they catered to the sick fucks who had fantasies about that sort of thing. After that he went to the gym and worked out all of his frustrations on machinery and swim sets, showered again. Spent whatever time was left mentally preparing for returning to work before he did so.

It was the sort of routine that normalized the total degradation of his dignity as a human being and left him numb, able to put on the mask and perform for whoever came into his bed. It had gotten to a point a few years ago where he wasn't sure if it even was a mask anymore, that maybe the toy who simply spread his legs and took what the customer gave like a good bitch was him. But it was Mags and Annie that reminded him that there was a reason. They were the lifejacket he clung to that kept him afloat. And one day, when he was too old to be attractive he might be able to walk free. He couldn't make himself not hope, because if that tiny hope was snuffed out he wasn't sure he would make it.

It had started out as a hard night on the job and had progressively gotten worse. His first few customers were women, and that might have been strange but in being with a woman he had to have a more active role and it was far more difficult. They were all elder women, in their late 40s or early 50s, most of them successful and lonely. Maybe their husbands didn't pay attention to them, or their kids didn't care, but they always came to him for comfort so that he could whisper in their ears that he thought they were beautiful and special and important. Most of the time it wasn't even really about the sex, though making marks so that they could go back to their friends and talk about the wild night they had was sometimes required, but they all wanted some sort of emotional connection that Finnick couldn't achieve with a Capitolite. So he whispered the prettiest of lies that fell from his lips, warm and sweet like honey and let them spill their hearts to him.

He got through all of that before on his queue he noticed a very familiar name and groaned.

Seneca Crane.

Seneca Crane was a wealthy, successful, and closeted business man who worked for President Snow with a bimbo wife pumped with silicon and with hair colored neon blue and three kids who were surely as miserable as he was. And Finnick knew how very much Mr. Crane liked to take out his frustrations upon him and his ass.

Unfortunately that night, as Mr. Crane would have it that was exactly what happened.

Seneca Crane sauntered in, looking downright pissed as Finnick gave him the most demure smile he could, knowing that his mask was perfection. Seneca liked a submissive, someone who would plead for him. After all, Seneca Crane had been coming to him every time he was for sale for the past two years, so at this point Finnick knew what he liked.

"Baby," He purred, "Come in. I've missed you."

"I'm sure you have, gorgeous." Seneca laughed, the sounding grating on Finnick's ears. "I've been thinking about how much I can't wait to bend you over this bed and fuck you hard."

"We should enjoy ourselves first. No need to rush." Finnick said trying to make sure he could buy himself enough time to both properly prepare, and also maybe get Crane to go over time because he knew Crane always ponied up the extra and Snow always left him alone longer the more lucrative he was for business, before pouting, "Unless you want to leave so soon?"

"Of course not." Seneca said as Finnick got up and started to pull on his tie and get him into the bed.

Finnick knew his routine so well he could have done it in his sleep. Kissing first with a handjob, blowjob, preparing himself as Crane watched hungrily before letting his customer decide what position. The rest of his act was so ingrained that he let himself sink into his thoughts, allowing what was going on outside of himself to pass over him like meaningless waves as he was continually rutted against. Finnick thought of how soon he could go home, of if he had remembered to ask Mags to water the herbs he had growing on the window sill because Annie liked to cook with those and she only had so much room, if the repair man had fixed his sink because it was clogged, of what he could cook for a late night snack with the stuff that was in his fridge because by the time he got home it'd be late, and most important of Annie was doing at that moment.

In the middle of his work he tried hard not to think about Annie. He couldn't risk her name slipping out. But sometimes he just couldn't help it. It gave him some sense of peace that if he could just get through this Annie would be sitting at home and working on a quilt or down at the Marsh Home.

But unfortunately he was brought out of his thoughts by a spike of pain in his tailbone. Finnick couldn't help but let a glare flash momentarily on his face, the mask slipping with his surprise as the man above him smiled serenely as if he had no clue what had made Finnick mad.

"That hurt." Finnick said shortly trying his best not to allow any negative emotion into his voice and thanking the Ancestors for the existence of Capitol pills that kept him hard. "A different angle please."

"I'm sorry, baby. You're just so good today, and I couldn't help myself."

As he tried to twist his hips into a better position, Finnick kept his mask of pleasure and submission upon his face while inside he had the urge to grab this man and break his neck with his bare hands because he was doing it on purpose, Goddamnit. Going in at an angle that was meant to hurt because this fucking creep was better at sex then any of the other men he had been with and wasn't capable of not bringing Finnick pleasure unless it was intentional. Most likely someone had pissed him off or he wanted something and had decided to make Finnick suffer for it which made him just like everyone else.

Another hitched breath forced its way from between Finnick's clenched teeth as the ache in his lower vertebrae was increasing as Crane kept pounding them against them pointedly until his lower half began to go unpleasantly numb, and he refused to give in. Finnick was absolutely not going to give this sick fuck the satisfaction of begging him to stop because that was what Crane was after and it was so clearly becoming a battle of wills and Finnick knew that his will was stronger and Crane wanted to punish him for it.

Finnick did win, a small victory as Seneca came and then gave him a smirk, as he sat on the side of the bed and lit up a complementary cigar and tossed back a couple shots until his cheeks were flushed and his eyes were foggy and his mouth tasted like straight up liquor.

"I love that face on you." He chuckled in his ear, "You know…I'm gonna be Gamemaker in a few years. It's a high profile job, and I'm one of Snow's favorite. I could work out a deal for you. You could just be my side piece."

"Don't be so sure." Finnick said as he let an edge creep into his voice. "Snow's affection is a fickle as mine don't you think?"

"Is that a threat?" Crane asked sounding obviously amused.

"A warning." Finnick purred between saccharine kisses. "I wouldn't want to see you strung up."

No, never strung up. Finnick thought. He would want to see Seneca on the floor as he took the knife from the table with expensive cheeses and used it to slice him open like a dead fish, before painstakingly ripping Seneca Crane's guts out with his teeth while he was still squirming and feeding them to the crows as the skin he was kissing grew cold and rot settled in and death filmed over his eyes. But that was a fantasy for Finnick's monster and Finnick was sure someone else would get around to killing Seneca Crane before he did. After all, Gamemakers never had long shelf-lives after all.

"Never strung up." Crane said, "Snow likes to choose his poisons wisely, but I know that better than anyone."

"What about poisons…?" Finnick asked curiously giving Seneca's neck a well placed kiss.

* * *

Finnick was sitting in the train, trying hard not to think of anything as the train rocked and the sun began to set. The memories of the day were just too fresh, and if he tried to get any sleep he would just relive the constant humiliation. At night, his brain's favorite torment was drudging up old memories of sessions past from the darkest cesspool in his head where he stored all of his most unsavory encounters, especially when the illness was still fresh and he hadn't quite finished storing them away.

So instead of thinking about customers, Finnick turned on the TV in his compartment as one of the dumb Capitol soap operas played on the channel he knew they got in Victor's Village. However, unfortunately the girl in the program had strikingly dark hair, like Annie, and eventually he wasn't thinking about the dumb plot but his mind wandered again to Annie as he flipped the channel yet again.

The 74th Hunger Games would be this year as stated by a bunch of panelists that squealed over ideas of what would make slaughtering children enjoyable and fun to watch. It was three whole years since Annie had won her games, and two years since they had gotten together. Strangely it was like a lifetime and a second ago. He was forever grateful and also forever sad that it was the Games that had brought them together. Though it had seemed like all of the current victors had been together since the dawn of time, he could still remember those days that had brought Annie to them vividly, as if it had been yesterday.

Annie had been two grades behind him in school, and he known of her, not known her personally. The only reasons she had any bit of notoriety weren't good by any stretch of the imagination. It wasn't that she was a bully or was popular or anything of the sort that would draw ire or recognition, but the fact that she was poor. In fact she was so thin and tiny, and her clothes were so big on her that everyone had called her Little Annie Cresta, as if the only way she had gained any sustenance was by mushing her first and last name together and by doing so a little song was born from the lips of every child who uttered a word about her. District Four was a prideful district above anything else, and there was a huge stigma against those who were reliant upon Capitol aid. The ideal was having parents who worked hard and provided, and earning luxury through hard work. Anything else was considered laziness and disgraceful. So Little Annie Cresta with her worn, ill-fitting clothes and every day coming to school with a blue lunch pail with only a slice of tesserae bread and a crock of fish soup that seemed more like fish stock was a social pariah and she stayed only within the friendships of the other children of poor dock workers and orphanage kids.

However, despite what his father might tell him, Finnick had never had a bad opinion of Little Annie Cresta. It was well known that Little Annie Cresta's Daddy was a drunk, and her Mama was sick and never left the house. But despite that Finnick would watch from the street as Little Annie Cresta would do all of the shopping by herself and the bartering, and walk along the road as she lugged the heavy bag back home without help. And when Finnick and the other Uptown boys went to the beach to practice their swordsmanship with driftwood, Little Annie Cresta would retrieve her passed out father from the docks and coax him home, leading him by the hand as if she was the parent and her Daddy was the child. To Finnick, Little Annie Cresta was responsible and grownup, and that was an admirable quality. Even after he left for the Academy and no longer saw Little Annie Cresta on the playground, even though she didn't occupy his thoughts, if ever her name was raised in conversation he would always look upon his memory of her fondly.

So Finnick felt nothing but sadness when he heard her name again, though not Little Annie Cresta for despite her unhealthy slenderness she was grown at that point, but instead as Andromeda Cresta as she walked up the stairs on the stage of the reaping. And her full name filled the echo of emptiness as no one shouted their name to volunteer, until the male tribute Kai Longshore was brought up beside her. Annie Cresta had been calm, and obviously sad upon the stage. When the girls of the Marsh Home came to the Justice Building to say goodbye tearfully, Annie comforted them. She spoke pleasantly and politely to those who addressed her on the train. Annie continued to portray calmness until she reached her cabin in the train, and Finnick could hear the heart-wrenching sobbing from behind the closed door. Finnick had realized that Annie Cresta wasn't confident, but instead she had just wanted to say her last goodbyes with those girls so that they would find her death as painless as she could make it without hiding her true feelings to herself. Finnick also realized rather uncomfortably that this still made her as responsible and grown-up as he remembered her to be, and maybe that also made her brave in a way that Finnick wasn't.

However Annie Cresta was still little and thin and obviously malnourished as many tributes from the Marsh Home tended to be. She lacked the obvious edge that training gave tributes, and instead was quite, polite, and kind. So much so that even her obviously showy and proud District Partner found it hard to dislike her and even warmed up to her. Again, Finnick didn't focus on her because her District Partner Kai was shaping up to be a strong warrior and fine tribute, with good looks that could be capitalized on. So he left Annie under Mags' direction and tried to focus on giving Kai a chance at winning.

What Finnick hadn't expected was for Annie to be resourceful. She learned quickly, her obvious intelligence manifesting when her belly was full and she wasn't wracked with the sadness that so obviously overwhelmed her at the thought of death. She was a deft hand at making fishing pools, nets, and hooks, a quick study when it came to snares and knots, good with knives, not squeamish when it came to preparing meat, and quick on her feet and obviously able to make smart decisions. Finnick and Mags quickly realized that with Kai, who was a strong fighter but obviously lacking in mental skills, and Annie who was markedly more intelligent than most if not all the tributes, working together that year there might have been an actual chance at there being a District Four victor. This was especially obvious when Annie received a solid score of seven for her knife skills and trap building, while Kai received a score of ten for his swordsmanship.

When the 70th Hunger Games began, their partnership became well established and well known. Kai understood and respected the fact that Annie, though lacking in basic fighting skills was valuable to him for her mind and trap making. And Annie relied on Kai for protection and help. Even without Academy training she became an asset to the pack, and with Kai they were a balanced and dynamic pair. Their growing friendship and banter was also another core reason of their popularity. While the other Career tributes were vicious and cold, Kai and Annie made faces at each other, through the hardship and horror they were able to support each other and simultaneously tease each other. It was becoming more and more obvious that their friendship and their strange brother-sister bond was increasing their popularity exponentially more than watching the District Two girl tear out the bowels of unsuspecting tributes.

Unfortunately, the others in the Career pack realized that as well. And as soon as the numbers dwindled under ten and the Games had been stretching on without consistent action, the Tributes of One and Two drugged Kai and Annie and attacked. They cleaved the head off of Kai, the beloved warrior and friend of Annie Cresta in truly cold blood. And it was only then that Annie Cresta's intense survival instinct made itself known. She struggled against the boy from District Two so desperately that he lost his balance and she rolled off of the cliff. He died from the fall, but Annie Cresta didn't. At that point he prayed that she would die, because he had begun to like Annie Cresta, and he would never wish the existence the Victors lived in upon anyone as good as Annie Cresta. But she just kept living in spite of his prayers, pulling herself through the mud with her arm bent out of its natural shape, ribs crushed, blood sliding from her head and crusting her hair. Her will to live was so astoundingly strong that despite her delirious and horribly injured state she had the peace of mind to hide. He continued to beg, just let her die. But despite his desires and even maybe even Annie's, she continued to live. She continue to live as the water washed all of the tributes away, and live as the District One girl kicked her and struggled and Annie almost lost her breath and drowned both of them, and kept living as the hovercraft plucked her from the sea.

It was as Mags filled in the details that Annie had provided of herself as they awaited for her to get out of surgery, that he truly understood her. Annie wasn't strong in the traditional sense in mental fortitude or body, nor was she determined and focused, and even further she was not made for bloodshed as Finnick was and even Kai had been to a smaller extent. Annie was good and kind and responsible and intelligent and pretty, but there had been plenty of tributes who had personified those attributes and had gotten killed in the Games. Annie had just one talent, and that was that she had the burning will to live and survive. It was so strong that her own mind kept her from remembering events that could harm her, and so pure that it could keep her alive on nothing more than rain water and crackers as she lay grievously injured and feverish in the mud.

Mind over matter, Finnick realized, was a truly powerful and real thing. And again Finnick found he respected her more than could ever be expected, because despite the most basic of her functions prevailing, Annie had never truly lost herself. She had been forced to kill for her survival, and yet she was ultimately still good. Annie felt guilt and sadness intensely, but never came to hate those who had forced her hand. She could accept that part of herself with grace, and continue living on despite those demons, while Finnick would always continue to be tortured by his past, and the divide and compartmentalizing of himself grew bigger every day. In that regard, Annie would always be stronger than he was and better than he was, and she inspired him to at least try to be a better person every day.

It was that which drew him to her, and without expecting it Annie made Finnick fall in love with her. The revelation had been stunning and terrifying and revolting and thrilling, as they walked along the beach one day and she had smiled at him with the sunset in her hair and giggling as she took a too big mouthful of mango and the juice had stained her shirt. That was the moment he had realized he had been falling in love with her the whole time, and though the Capitol took everything away from him, those feelings belonged to him alone and having them burning in his chest was almost too much to bear. Finnick had once thought that it was his freedom that he desired, but no, he only wanted freedom to love Annie Cresta as completely as he possibly could.

And so while reflecting on those thoughts, the train continued on in the night until the sea became visible over the hills. Eventually it slowed down and stopped in the station, and it released its single passenger from the doors into the Witching Hour.

As Finnick had predicted, it was entirely too late when he arrived back in District Four, allowing the sea breeze to fill him as he walked back home tired and sore and ready to curl up into bed. It was a long walk back to Victor's Village, and by the time he reached home he was surprised to see a single light on in the bedroom in Annie's house. The entirely broken and lovesick part of him begged him to give in and run to her room and to sink into bed with her, but at that moment he just felt too disgusting to even be near her. And so he dragged himself inside his home, dumped his duffle bag by the door before going to his bathroom. He stripped down laboriously, taking in the bruises at his hips and thighs and the scratch marks on his chest, and he filled up the tub using the special bar of soap that Mags had made him for his 22nd birthday. He sank in laboriously, not allowing the tub to cool down even a fraction before sanitizing his skin.

He pretended that it was the heat of the tub that brought forth tears.

* * *

He awoke to the sensation of kisses upon his temple and his jaw. Groggy, he tried to open his eyes only to find them crusted over with the remnants of his tears. He sat up in bed, rubbing them open as Annie poured water from a pitcher filled with slices of orange and lemons into a glass. He had been so dead asleep that he hadn't even smelled the breakfast upon a tray on his bedside table. Unlike Mags who cooked with decadence and had a secret agenda to attempt to grow Finnick until he was over seven feet tall, Annie cooked practically. A two pieces of toast that was dark like he liked it, with pots butter, seedy and dark raspberry jam, or honey to spread. Scrambled eggs with plenty of cheese and herbs, sat next to shaved pieces of deli ham, and a cup of fruit salad that Finnick would eat despite knowing that Annie hadn't put sugar on it because she had the idea that he would get ill from all he sugar he consumed. And finally, two stout mugs of coffee, one black with two spoonfuls of sugar like Annie liked it, and the other pale with cream and sugar like he took his coffee.

"Good morning." Annie hummed, the apron still tied over her frock, her hair tied back with a scarf like she did in the morning when she was doing chores. Finnick tried to speak, but the lump in his throat was too hard to work past. Instead, he grabbed the piece of toast haphazardly spreading on butter and jam before shoving it in his mouth, barely able to work bites past his totally dry mouth. He continued to eat far too quickly, mechanically moving from plate to plate in a way that raised Annie's obvious alarm. By the end he felt so ill that he quickly swallowed coffee with reckless abandon to keep it down because he could help but feel what else he had put in his mouth over the past few days, what had violated his throat, and he struggled against his gag reflux but he had to desensitize himself or else the shadow of his activities would forever haunt him. Annie's hand was cool and soft against his wrist as she eased the mug from his lips and held his hand. As usual the shadow of nightmares were underneath her eyes, but those green eyes were so warm that it was hard to bare. "Finnick, what is it?"

"I…I feel so used." He admitted biting the inside of his cheek hard so that no tears fell.

"Oh Finnick." Annie soothed, kissing the palm of his hand.

"It's true, Annie." He admitted bitterly, "I'm used up. I'm just a fucktoy-"

"That is not true, Finnick Odair." Annie said firmly and almost angrily, there was a righteous fire in her eyes, and he was so grateful for it. Because it helped him to feel like he wasn't completely insane, because all of the Capitol pigs thought what he did was normal, even though every time he felt so much shame that he wanted to take the sheets from the bed and hang himself from the rafters.

"I don't understand how you can touch me." Finnick said trying desperately not to dry heave as he touched his throat, "I can barely stand to look at myself sometimes, I still feel them Annie. I feel them fucking me."

"You are so much more than that." Annie told him firmly, looking right into his soul, "And even if every day you wake up and I have to tell you, I will. You are worth the whole lot of them put together. You are still good, Finnick Odair. I love you."

"I love you too." Finnick said, knowing that in his life that this was the one thing that was certain. Annie stood up, obviously an idea twinkling in her eyes. He let go of her hand and she ducked into his bathroom for a minute before returning with oil. He blinked in confusion as she placed it beside her coffee. "What are you doing?"

"You said you could still feel them, Finnick." Annie said, as she poured the oil over her fingers and warmed it between her hands lovingly, as only Annie would do to prevent the cold from shocking him. "I'm going to override that memory. Take off your shirt and lie down on your stomach."

Finnick did what he was told skeptically. That was until she put her hands on him.

Annie stared with his feet, rolling her thumb over the flat, rubbing out the arch, and rolling his ankles. That was ticklish and silly, until she moved up his calf, bunching the muscles and releasing and rubbing in deep with her thumbs, repeating a very similar action with his thighs before he felt her hands upon his aching lower back. As if sensing his pain with the tensing of his shoulders, she kissed his shoulder soothingly as she began rubbing out places of tightness he didn't even know he had, working his muscles into clay and lulling him into a hypnotic trance as her fingers squeezed his neck and cracked away the stiffness there.

"Oh Annie…" He moaned, a real moan as his shoulders received the attention he hadn't even known he had been aching for. The weight of her straddling his back was also extremely welcome, because he felt oddly boneless and ready to slip back into warm slumber.

"I love everything about you, Finnick." Annie murmured in his eyes, before kissing it. "I love all of you."

Annie gently nudged him over upon his back. She was looking over him, her hair falling out of her scarf, her mouth so full and warm, her skirt bunched up and he swore he had never seen anything to beautiful as her complete perfect and imperfection. Finnick sat up, adjusting her upon his lap and tugged free the knot and let her sweet smelling hair tumble over her shoulders. He breathed in, memorizing the scent of the sea and Mags' lemongrass soap, before coaxing her dress up and over her head and arms. He kissed her softly and with all of the adoration in his heart, kissing the peaks of her breasts as his hands continued to map the soft contours of her body.

He had been lucky, he supposed, that before the first Capitolite had laid a hand on him that he had already lost his virginity or else he wasn't sure it would be possible for him to have sex at all. The first time was to a District girl named Lila when he was twelve, he had been tall and handsome for his age, far more grown then most of the sixteen year old boys and far more handsome. They had been going out for a few months and she was readying herself to go into volunteer training and had decided that then was a good time. They had made love in her bedroom once her parents were gone, and they had fumbled around because they had both been bundles of nerves, and Finnick had finished far too quickly and he hadn't prepared her quite enough. But once they had learned the ropes it had been good and generally pure for as long as the three month relationship lasted, and Finnick had certainly learned what his tongue could do with a well-placed kiss. Later on in his fourteenth year he had his second relationship, with a boy named Marcus who was a year older than him. When it came to his preferences, Finnick knew that his love for women had certainly been more explored, but he had never thought of himself in terms of being limited to one gender. He had been attracted to Marcus because of his skill and his air of confidence and looking back Finnick had been rather infatuated with him in general. But that relationship was, and continued to be one of the best relationships he had ever had with a man in general. But in any case, his odd preferences were something he was always grateful for, because unlike Gloss and Brutus and some of the other male victors, he didn't have innate revulsion when it came to couplings with male customers.

But District lovers were so much different, so much better than any sex from the Capitol. He had known from his memories that sex could be good and that had saved him and kept him from falling into the delusion that many of the young victors from One and Two had fallen into that ruined sex completely. But it was only when he started having a sexual relationship with Annie that he realized how different and utterly amazing making love was. In no way had it cheapened their love in any way, and they had simply let it evolve and take its natural course. Annie had always been beyond patient when it came to his boundaries, and though it had taken months to build up to after first discussing the possibilities, after that first night Finnick knew that he was forever changed. Her body was so natural, no synthetic tastes or colors, Annie was just so warm and soft and welcoming. He felt the petals of her sex open for him as he trailed his fingers over her, causing her to shudder with pleasure. Annie's mouth pressed against his, silently bidding him to kiss her as he sank inside of her, feeling her hands press against his back as he rocked against her so softly, knowing exactly where to find that bundle of nerves that made her flutter around him. For Annie it was that easy, for it only took a kiss and a smile to lead him back from the darkness of his memories and heartache and into the light, at least for a little while until he was forced to return.

He pulled his mouth away to look at her. She was warm and so full of life, the sunlight streaking her hair red across the sheets, her cheeks flushed, eyes glazed with pleasure and love as her chest strained. The moans of his name that bubbled past her lips were so enticing that he only felt him harden even more inside of her. He hummed against her neck as he tasted her skin, attempting yet again to imprint her upon his lips. At that point he knew her body well enough to feel her getting close. So without hesitation he reached down to provide stimulation, and she came with a breathy sigh. Without a word she wrapped her legs around his hips, and lifted up to provide the perfect angle for him to finish and come.

They lay there together, breathing hard as they both came down from their ecstasy. Feeling lazy and boneless, Finnick couldn't help but nuzzle into Annie as she curled against him.

"Thank you." He sighed, gently tracing patterns into the skin of her back as Annie smiled up at him.

"No problem." Annie said before adding jokingly, "Though we can't stay in here long. I promised Mags we would help her with the shopping."

"Oh man." Finnick whined, "You've sucked all of the energy out of me, woman. There's no way my aching bones can handle such an ordeal."

"Oh really?" Annie asked, a devious glint in her eyes. "What if I made it up to you later?"

"How?" Finnick asked intrigued as Annie pressed her lips against his ear. What she whispered was in the Old Language which was rich and heady and oh so sexy, especially in post-sex glow. Finnick raised his brow and felt blood yet again rush down to his nether regions along with excitement. "Really?"

"Oh yes, I promise." She giggled before kissing him softly and sweetly. "Now, come on mi amor. A shower is in order. Mags won't appreciate us if we show up soaked with sweat."

"I'll be there in a minute." Finnick said, as Annie kissed the crown of his head before disappearing to the bathroom. Finnick sat up in bed, and reaching for the phone. Beetee had long since set up a private line for Victors, and Finnick had gotten rid of all of the cameras in his house so he was in no danger as he dialed the number he had committed to memory. But still he pulled down the shades just in case, knowing that his paranoia had served him well on many occasions and not to doubt it.

There were two rings before the gruff voice of Haymitch Abernathy picked up.

" 'ello?" He asked and Finnick sighed.

"It's me."

"Ah, sunshine boy. What can I do you for?" Haymitch asked sarcastically, and Finnick could hear the sloshing of drink.

"Cut the shit, Haymitch. What you told me about during the Games last year, your proposition. I want in."

"You've got a girl now, don't you Odair? Being in this deal won't be safe for her. You told me that."

"Being in this world with Snow in charge is what isn't safe for her. I won't tell her anything. I just need to know that there if there is a chance that I can fight for a world where I can be free to love her." Finnick told him, feeling all of the embarrassment and shame melting away into anger that just needed to be used for something because he couldn't wait for the days where he would be too old. He wanted a life with Annie, a real one. Not whatever nightmare they were living in.

"Welcome abroad, laddie." Haymitch said with a laugh. "You are in for one Hell of a ride."

"What do I do now?" Finnick asked him and Haymitch sighed.

"We wait for the spark to start the rebellion."

And with that, Finnick hung up the phone and went to join Annie back in the morning sunlight.


End file.
